


this one blew them all away

by calendarbusiness (suibian_distance)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Post-First Series (Percy Jackson)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suibian_distance/pseuds/calendarbusiness
Summary: she's never heard a love story like this before.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	this one blew them all away

The tip of Annabeth’s pencil snaps, jumping and rolling dramatically across her paper and rolling off the table. It leaves little stuttering marks on her details, and gods, it’s going to be a pain to erase. Sighing, she shuts her eyes and taps the eraser bit of her pencil against her forehead.

One of her siblings tuts sympathetically into the silence that’s usually an accessory to a cabin of a dozen sleeping demigods at three in the morning.

“You’re still awake?” Annabeth turns around to the direction the voice came from. 

A curly blonde hair pops up from one of the top bunks: Malcolm. He yawns hugely at her before making a solicitous face. 

“Mm,” he mumbles, “Know you’re stressed. Ares is scary as hell.” 

Annabeth laughs, reaching for her X-Acto knife. She pulls the little plastic tray for the pencil shavings closer to her and starts sharpening it. “You should sleep.” 

He hums thoughtfully, and promptly lapses into silence. 

Annabeth keeps at it, methodically spinning the pencil. After a while, a light snore sounds behind her, and she looks back to see the blanket pulled so far over Malcolm’s head that there’s only a little tuft of blonde sticking out in contrast to the dark sheets. 

Annabeth smiles and thinks, _I’m a bit scared the pillows will smother him to death, but I don’t have the heart to wake him. He’s too tired._

They’re all tired. The war has been over for barely a fortnight, and people are still recovering. Annabeth moves her shoulder instinctively, and it still aches, but just a little. 

She blinks away the drowsy feeling that threatens to cloud over her eyes and focuses on the top of the war god’s helmet. The material can wait; she just needs to get her design down. It’s one of those things she can’t stop once she’s started- if she stops she knows full well she’ll lose this idea and never find it again, and maybe Ares will obliterate her if he doesn’t like the way she designed his statue. 

She still can’t believe she’s been tasked with designing the new Olympus. The sirens' vision of a new Olympus- one that she created, triumphant and glorious, still resonates a flurry of emotions in her. It’s everything she’s ever wanted. 

Annabeth twirls her pencil between her palms as she scrutizes her work. The part over the eyes needs adjusting. 

As she fixes the design, unwelcome flashbacks of the war dance across her eyes. The pain of the poisoned blade, Silena’s broken body, Luke, with blood around his mouth and the horrible emptiness in his eyes; the three Fates themselves in front of her, the green mist pouring incessantly into Rachel’s mouth, Percy- 

_Percy._ A wave of emotions crashes into Annabeth’s mind, and she places her pencil down, pressing a hand to her head. Percy. 

She’s never heard a love story like this before. Maybe it is supposed a tragedy- it seems sometimes like all Greek myths are. 

She has this terrible mental image of Percy broken and bloody in her arms- a mirror of Luke’s last moments. There’s grime and ichor on his armour and blood trickling out of his mouth. The green’s seeped out of his eyes. Maybe he should have taken that immortality deal. 

Annabeth sucks in a breath and stares at her blueprints. She shakes herself and picks up her pencil again, correcting one of the arches of the helmet. 

The graphite rolls smoothly into the paper, strong and firm enough to define Ares but right now, light enough so erasing and adjusting is easy enough. 

Annabeth’s a pragmatic person. And she’s good at what she does. She loves this- the way everything comes together. Pieces of her buildings and statues and armour always fit together smoothly, like the LEGO pieces she loved to play with before she ran away. 

She’s got no idea how this fits together. _Percy Jackson_ , she thinks, and is dismayed to find that all the usual annoyance has been steadfastly replaced by fondness. 

But she knows she wouldn’t be able to live with the idea of her life without Percy. Selfish as it is, she would’ve done anything to stop him from taking the immortality deal. 

She shuts her eyes, letting the memories wash over her. Percy’s grin, the mischievous green glint of his eyes, the way he sometimes still self-consciously tugged on his Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. Percy’s face in the Labyrinth, alight with worry; the way he gripped the hilt of Riptide in battle; the kiss they shared in an air bubble underwater- _everything._

Gods, Annabeth loves him. It’s not even worth denying anymore. She grips her pencil and thinks, _I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. I can’t-_

The pencil snaps and the wood splinters into her palm. She curses in Ancient Greek and gingerly pries them out. The pencil pieces go into the garbage. 

Annabeth sighs and decides to turn in for the night. She gives the paper one last look before sinking down onto her bed, getting the longest sleep she’s had since the war started. 

The next morning, Annabeth finds Percy sitting sleep-tousled and drowsy in the Dining Pavilion, clutching a goblet of some blue liquid like it was ambrosia. 

She runs up to the Poseidon table- Percy blinks at her, blearily, but beams at her anyway. 

“Hey, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth says, and hauls him up into a kiss before he can say anything else. 

Percy jumps in surprise before standing up properly, and the Dining Pavilion bursts into a murmur of laughing and wolf whistles and groans of _gods, it’s too early for this._

Clarisse shouts, “Gross, get a room, guys!” but there’s something like laughter in her tone. 

The sun is warm as it streams into the camp, her friends are all laughing around her, Percy’s lips curve into a smile on hers, and this is the happiest Annabeth has ever been. 

**Author's Note:**

> i reread pjo recently for like the first time since elementary. it's still really good, and i like it as much as i did the day 9 y/o me picked up my scholastics order of the first pjo series at school.  
> kudos + comments greated appreciated- tear me to shreds in the comments! currently unaware of any errors, but i am sure there are many.


End file.
